Thank You
by Chazza220
Summary: A little Sherlolly one-shot written for my 500th Tumblr follower. How Molly helps Sherlock in Reichenbach. Contains slight feels and fluff.


**For my 500th Tumblr follower who requested a little Sherlock/Molly. Enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock, these characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Motfiss.**

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'You're wrong, you know?'

Molly heard a deep voice behind her, and jumped, holding back a scream at the unexpected sound. She turned around to face Sherlock. He looked ill and dishevelled, scared even.

'You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. But you were right. I'm not ok.' The fear was obvious in his voice.

'Tell me what's wrong.' She responded immediately, taking a step towards the detective.

'Molly... I think I'm going to die.' Molly froze momentarily, her heartbeat increasing in panic but she quickly collected herself.

'What do you need?' She asked quietly, but with a streak of determination.

'If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything that _I_ think I am... would you still want to help me?' Sherlock stuttered, evidently finding it difficult to convey his thoughts.

'What do you need?' Molly repeated, a little louder, trying to reassure Sherlock that she would obviously do anything for him.

'You.' Sherlock uttered, his eyes locked on Molly's, and for the first time since she'd met the detective, she saw his eyes glistening with pools of tears, genuine tears that started to cascade down his face at an alarming speed. Acting upon instinct, she took two more steps towards Sherlock, so there was barely a few centimetres between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him down towards her. His head came to rest on her right shoulder and Molly could feel him shaking as the droplets of water dripped off of his nose. She held him tighter in her arms, as if to reassure him that she wasn't going anywhere, that he was safe, and after a few seconds Sherlock lifted his arms and hugged Molly back.

'Goodbye John.'

Molly heard the words clearly through the ear piece attached to her head and knew that now was the time for her to take action and placed her hand nervously on the handle. After approximately 7 seconds she heard the muffled 'thump' as Sherlock's body landed on the padded floor of the rubbish truck and she slipped out of the driver's seat door, leaning under the truck and pulling out the disguised cadaver. Hauling it onto her shoulder she quickly moved to the spot Sherlock should have landed and placed the body in a believable position. As she did so she could hear the believable portrayals of shock and horror from a cast of the homeless network around her and the painful skid across the tarmac from John's body after colliding with a cyclist. Everything was going to plan.

Quickly returning to the rubbish truck before John could reach her side of the pavement, she pulled open the heavy metal door leading into the back of the lorry and climbed in, closing it behind her and plunging the back half of the rubbish container into near darkness, only being illuminated by the light radiating from the windshield at the other end. Except it didn't contain rubbish, it held the very much alive Sherlock Holmes, who was shaken and rubbing his arms in pain after falling over 21 metres into an open top lorry carpeted with less padding in the form of old hospital mattresses than he would have liked.

'Everything worked.' Molly said quietly, trying to get the detective's attention.

Sherlock let out a weak 'ha' that quickly became a sigh, which dissolved into tears once more. The sudden transition between emotions, actual emotions, should have shocked Molly, but in the past few hours she'd discovered just how human Sherlock really was. How human she had always thought him to be.

She walked over to the tall man, who was sitting slumped against the truck wall, his knees pulled up to his chin and his face buried in his hands as if he was trying to get lost in them.

'Shhh.' Molly whispered as she seated herself next to him and stretched out her hand, pulling his hands away from his face and not letting go of them. He doesn't pull away.

'You did the right thing. You saved them, and one day you'll see them again. You-you've just got a lot to-uh-do between now and then.' She attempted a giggle.

Sherlock forced a twitch of his mouth.

'Thank you Molly.' He replies into his knees, his voice husky and broken, squeezing her hand as if to attempt to prove his point. He raised his head to look directly at her, his kaleidoscope blue-grey eyes reddened and innocent. Before she could realise what she was doing, Molly lent forward and kissed him gently, their lips barely touching.

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat and Molly heard it hitch. As if pulling her out of a trance she immediately pulled back.

'I-I am so s-sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Well I did, but you didn't want me to.' She stumbled. 'Sherlock, I'm just s-'

Molly didn't get to finish her embarrassed apologies before she felt Sherlock's lips on hers again. His mouth was surprisingly soft compared to his stubborn appearance, she could feel a fire burning in a stomach as she responded. Her enthusiasm obvious as she gripped the front of Sherlock's coat and pulled him in closer. Sherlock opened his mouth slightly and Molly took the opportunity to attack it with her tongue. Sherlock tried and failed to supress a moan and instead settled for wrapping his arms around Molly's waist. Their mouth's alight with a passion that danced through their closed eyes and a certain aura of need and desire.

Eventually Molly pulled away, panting heavily, flushed and grinning.

'Really Molly, thank you.'


End file.
